Stay With Me
by likecominghome
Summary: Just to be clear, this is a one time thing.
1. Chapter 1

He'd been there for hours.

He'd been there when she'd come in for her shift at eight and four hours later, as the bartender yelled out for last calls, he was still sitting at the bar, his fingers wrapped around the base of what was now a lukewarm bottle of beer, seeing as he'd been nursing just one drink the whole night.

She'd kind of been hoping that he'd get drunk enough that she'd have to ask him to leave, but instead, he'd been strangely quiet, talking to no one and rejecting the advances of the females who found his tanned skin and high cheekbones irresistible.

"What are we gonna do about him?" the bartender asked, nodding towards the man Lydia had been discreetly glancing at every few minutes for the past four hours. "We're about to close."

"I'll handle it," she sighed, reaching back to untie the straps of her dirty black apron, folding it neatly as she walked towards where he sat at the end of the bar.

If he heard her coming, he gave no indication, his gaze fixated on the label of his beer bottle as though he was in some sort of trance.

"Hey, it's almost time to close up, so you're gonna have to leave."

He didn't respond.

"Stiles!"

Turning at the sound of his name, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Yeah?"

"She has to leave," she said, holding her folded apron against her chest and tapping her foot impatiently. "We're closing."

"Oh."

Normally, she probably would have been more forceful, but there was something about the softness of his voice and the sadness in his eyes that made her heart ache a little, a feeling that annoyed her greatly because she didn't want to have any sort of sympathizing feelings towards Stiles.

He'd moved into her building a little under a year ago, the place to the right and right from the start, sparks flew, but not the good kind. She found his odd hours irritating because she'd be able to hear him through the walls and he always had his rowdy, loud, immature friends over to make a ruckus. When she'd confronted him about it one day in the mail room, he'd pretty much told her to mind her own business.

He also seemed to be a regular at the bar where she waitressed. She probably would have found this extremely annoying if it weren't for the fact that he tended to order a lot of drinks and tip really well.

Blinking slowly, he twisted his torso to the side, his hands unwrapping from his drink as he lowered his feet to the floor and stood up straight. Seeing as someone his size couldn't possibly be tipsy from just one drink, she found it strange that he seemed to be swaying slightly on the spot.

"Are you alright?" she asked, despite her usual hesitance to engage in personal conversation.

"Yeah," he nodded, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and dropping a handful of bills on the countertop to close out his tab. "I'm gonna go."

He lifted one side of his mouth into a sad smile, raising a hand in a wave before turning to walk towards the door.

She should have just let him walk away. The rational part of she knew that calling after him would only end in her getting involved, but he seemed extremely sad and she hated when people were sad, so she scolded herself, but spoke anyway.

"Hey, Stiles, wait up. I'll walk home with you."

Seeing as the two of them lived in the same building, it logically made sense, so she was a little miffed that he looked so surprised. Placing her apron in the back room, she clocked out before grabbing her purse and meeting Stiles by the front door.

"I'm not drunk," he said as the two of them stepped outside, reaching up to run his fingers through his messy brown hair before shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark wash jeans.

"I know," she replied, hugging herself to ward off the nighttime chill. "You drank like one beer the entire night. It really messed with our tips."

She got paid a decent amount for each hour she worked, but a large percentage of her income came from tips and people who only had one drink over the course of four hours tended to not tip very well.

"Oh," he said, furrowing his brow and shifting his glance towards her. "Sorry. I'll leave a huge one next time."

"It's all good," she shrugged.

The silence was a little worrying. It wasn't as though she and Stiles often had soulful, meaningful conversations where they reflected on each other's words, but for the year that she'd been rolling her eyes at him from afar, she'd never really seen Stiles upset. He was one of those people that were perpetually happy and even when he wasn't smiling, there was no anger in his eyes, just quiet disappointment.

Sometimes she wished he'd get fired up so she'd have an excuse to dislike him further, but anytime she accidentally brought him the wrong beer or nearly tripped over him in the hallway, he'd just smirk like there was no tomorrow and go on his way, which, to be fair, was just as infuriating. It irked her when people looked at her as though they knew something she didn't and Stiles had a special talent for doing just that.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

The words tumbled from her lips before she had a chance to fully think them through, but she refused to feel uncomfortable about it. Seeing people upset wasn't something that made her particularly happy, no matter how much she disliked the person in question, and Stiles clearly had something on his mind or he wouldn't have turned down the advances of all those beautiful women at the bar. She'd never seen him walk out of there alone, so the fact that he was actively disengaging was a huge red flag.

"W-what?" he sputtered, brown eyes wide and long eyelashes fluttering.

"Something's wrong," she insisted. She'd already started this line of questioning, so she figured she might as well continue.

"It's none of your business," he frowned, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, causing the muscles in his arms to flex. They were lean and toned and on more than one occasion, she'd found herself staring at them longingly, wishing such amazing arms belonged to someone with a more attractive personality.

She glanced down, noticing the tattoo on the outside of his arm. It was a butterfly with a name written in elegant script beneath it and she'd always wondered what it meant but it wasn't as though she and Stiles were close enough that she could ask. Her first thought had been a past lover, but seeing as she'd seen about ten different girls leaves his apartment over the course of the past two months, it was safe to say he wasn't in a relationship and it was safe to say he had enough money to get it removed, seeing as his detective agency was pretty well known.

"Sorry," she rolled her eyes, wondering why she was wasting her time trying to have a conversation. "You seem sad, so I was just giving you a chance to let it out. No need to be an ass about it."

He wasn't used to being called on his douche-like behavior and furrowed his brow, the frown on his lips deepened as he cleared his throat a couple times before speaking again. "I'm not trying to be an ass…I'm just not used to you being concerned about me."

That was fair enough. It wasn't as though she had a history of being friendly with Stiles. He wasn't actually around that often, seeing as his work took him all over the country, but when he was, his presence annoyed the living hell out of her.

"I'm in a good mood," she shrugged, thinking it was as good an excuse as any for being interested in Stiles's life.

The corners of his lips upturned slightly and he gave her a small nod, taking three more steps in silence before he confessed what was on his mind. "I'm a little heartbroken."

It wasn't what she was expecting to hear. As far as she could tell, he hadn't been in any sort of steady relationship for the time he'd lived in her building. She was trying to figure out the best way to say this without sounding indelicate. "Ex-girlfriend problems?"

"Something like that," he nodded, his strides slowing as the two of them neared their building. "We actually broke up over a year ago, but I just found out that she's engaged, so I guess she's definitely moved on."

It was strange to hear him sounding emotional, his voice quiet and his gaze focused anywhere but her. "And you haven't? Moved on, I mean."

Shrugging, he pulled open the door to the building and waved a hand to indicate she should step inside first. "I don't wish we were still together because our relationship would never have worked out and we both wanted different things…I guess it's just hard to see people she used to care about moving forward with their lives when you're just kind of stuck in the same place."

When she'd told Stiles she'd walk home with him, she'd expected to end up bickering, not be having a heart to heart about his failed relationships. Wetting her dry lips, she shot him a tightlipped smile as a thank you as she stepped through the door and headed towards the staircase to begin the climb to the fifth floor.

The curious part of her wanted to know more, but the rational part was afraid she'd end up developing some sort of connection with Stiles, and that couldn't happen. The last thing she needed or wanted was to end up with feelings for someone who spent half their time in other states.

"Sorry," she said as she stepped onto the landing of the third floor, trying to sound sympathetic rather than empathetic because she did know how it felt to be lost when everyone else seemed to have it together. "That sucks."

"Thanks," he snorted at the eloquence of her response.

"Is that what that's for?" she asked, nodding at the tattoo on his arm, unable to contain her curiosity as to what it meant.

He glanced down, his eyebrows rising when his gaze lifted and he shook his head. "No…that's for my mom."

"Oh?" She wasn't sure where the surprise in her voice was coming from. Considering most of her conversations with Stiles were riddled with curse words, it made sense that she knew very little about his personal life.

"Yeah," he replied, a slow smirk twisting his lips. "Guess you don't know everything, huh?"

Laughing lightly, she didn't speak for the rest of the journey to their floor, but came to a stop outside the door of his apartment, thinking that tonight's interaction deserved some sort of closure. Most likely in the form of an insult and an eye roll in order to set the universe right.

"So…" she said, pulling her keys from her leather side purse and swinging them around her finger as she racked her brain for an appropriate way to say goodbye. But when her gaze met his, she found herself holding her breath because he was swiping his tongue across his gorgeous plump lips and weaving his fingers through his thick hair and looking at her with sparks in his eyes. No matter how much of an asshole she thought he was, she could never deny that Stiles was sexy as hell. And right now, it was taking all of her willpower not wonder how it would feel to run her fingers through his hair as well. "Why are looking at me like that?"

"I'm just wondering," he said, tilting his head to the side, "If you're feeling this too."

"Feeling what?" Her words came out barely above a whisper and she gulped, silently glad she didn't have to be the one to say it first.

"The sexual tension."

The confirmation that her attraction was not one sided was all she needed to drop her keys back in her open purse, step forward, clutch the front of his t-shirt in her fists, and kiss him hard.

He responded immediately, his hands gripping her hips and pulling her into his torso before turning and pushing her back against his door. She always knew he'd be good at this; those fingers were practically made to set her on fire and when he pulled his lips from hers to move them down her jawline and neck until he was sucking on the sweet spot just above her collarbone, she felt the muscles in her abdomen clench and decided there was no turning back.

Pushing his hips backward, he removed one of his hands from her to dig into his pockets and produce his keys, sticking it sloppily into the lock on his door. It took him three times before it finally clicked and he pushed her backwards to send it swinging open. Kicking it closed as he entered, he returned his lips to hers and dropped his keys on the nearest surface, which happened to be the floor.

By this time, she felt as though there was electricity coursing through her veins and her breathing was staggered as his fingers dug into her hips where her thin t-shirt met the black skirt she wore for work and guided her towards the bedroom door. He pulled away when she reached the doorway, giving her room to breathe and time to slip her hands beneath the soft cotton of his shirt and feel the contours of his abs before she lifted it off his stomach and pulled it over his head. He looked delicious without a shirt on, but she didn't have time to appreciate it because he was grabbing at her shirt, pulling it swiftly over her head.

"Just to be clear," she said, her voice breathy and cracking when he dropped her shirt to the floor. "This is a onetime thing."

She didn't want to give him the impression that this was the start of some epic romance when in reality, she were certain the attraction was purely physical and this night was just to satisfy her curiosity. But he seemed to be on the same page and nodded as he hooked his finger into the waistband of her skirt and tugged her close so he could pull down the zipper. "Got it. One time."

It turned out to be three times, actually. Because Stiles was insatiable and she found out that he lit a fire within her body that only he could put out. So afterwards, as they lay on either side of his bed, not touching each other at all, she amended her rule to mean one time as in the number of nights they spent together and not the number of times he'd left her a quivering mess.

"Well…" she said, once she was able to catch her breath and could once again feel her limbs. "This was nice. I guess I should probably go."

"You can stay if you want."

Eyebrows shooting up, she turned her head to face him, wondering if she'd heard him correctly. "What?"

He licked his lips slowly, only his head turned as the rest of his exhausted body lay spread eagle beneath the navy covers, his expression sincere. "You should stay."

"Stiles…" she said, her tone unsure because cuddling after sex could lead down a path neither if them were prepared for.

"I promise," he laughed, his expression lighting. "I'm not gonna fall in love with you."

He seemed to mean his words, so she nodded and scooted over , laying her head on his chest and running her fingers over his abs beneath the covers as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his side.

"Alright," she sighed, her eyes fluttering closed as she allowed her exhaustion to overcome her. "Just this once."


	2. Chapter 2

It probably shouldn't have surprised her that the dynamic between her and Stiles had changed, in fact, she supposed there was no way it couldn't change considering what happened, but she hadn't expected things to become so…weird. It was as though the two of them were tiptoeing around each other, neither having the guts to just be adults and talk about that night.

To be fair, she actually hadn't seen much of him. He hadn't come in to the bar in a few weeks, so she thought perhaps he and his work friends had gone to solve cases in exotic locations, but then she saw him in the hallway of their building, presumably with one of those said work friends, looking decidedly uncomfortable when he noticed her as well.

It was then she realized he was actually just actively avoiding her, and that thought just made her angry. If anyone was going to do the avoiding in this situation, it was going to be her.

So Lydia decided that the next time she saw him, she would confront him like an adult, because she was sick and tired of having no idea what to do.

The opportunity came on a Wednesday evening. She had the night off from the bar, so she was spending her free time catching up on some housework she had been putting off for quite some time. Humming as she walked into the laundry room on the floor below hers, basket laden with dirty clothes at her hip, she stopped mid note at the sight of Stiles shoving his own articles of clothing into a washer.

Standing up straight, she held her laundry basket close to her hip, as she walked into the room, setting it down with a little more force than necessary on the table that was positioned for residents to fold their clothes upon in order to draw his attention. He looked up after shoving the last of his clothes into one of the two washing machines available, his initial reaction to be surprised, but it quickly turned to discomfort when he gaze set on her.

"Um, hi," he sputtered out as he reached for his bottle of detergent, turning the cap the wrong a direction a few times due to his nerves.

"Really?" she quirked one eyebrow upwards, placing a balled up fist at her hip. "That's all you got?"

Both his eyebrows rose in surprise as he poured a little more detergent than necessary into the machine and started the spin cycle. "What did you want me to say?"

The question caught her off guard, although it probably shouldn't have seeing as she was the one who started the confrontation, because the truth was that she had no idea what she wanted. In fact, she hated that she wanted anything at all.

It was supposed to be just sex. One night of indulging in each other's bodies so that they could momentarily forget their troubles and not spend the rest of her life wondering what it would feel like.

But the trouble was, that now she couldn't stop thinking about it and she couldn't stop herself from wanting more. The morning after, she'd snuck out of his apartment before he woke, not wanting to have to deal with the awkwardness of pillow talk and potentially having to eat breakfast together and then she'd spent the next three weeks reminiscing about the way he'd looked on top of her, his lips wet and parted, his eyes hooded and his hair deliciously mussed.

She shouldn't have stayed. That's what did it, what had ultimately been her downfall. If she'd just walked out as soon as it was over like she'd originally planned, then she wouldn't have gotten yelled at multiple times at work because she failed to notice a customer because she was too busy thinking about the way Stiles's arms had felt wrapped around her body when she woke, his lips unconsciously pressed to the back of her head as though his kiss would keep her safe as she slept.

Part of her was mentally slapping herself for becoming emotionally attached and the other part of her still wanted to know why he was avoiding her. She would have much preferred if he'd just been super cocky and smirked and winked every time he passed her in the hall to the icing out and silent treatment she was currently getting. At least then she'd know it really hadn't meant anything to him and she'd eventually go back to finding him annoying again.

"Look," she sighed as she began to separate her whites from her colors atop the table. "That night wasn't a big deal. You don't have to avoid me. I'm a big girl, Stiles."

His initial response was, "I'm not avoiding you."

Pressing her lips together and attempting not to roll her eyes, she lifted one eyebrow in a pointed stare. "Really? Because the fact that you walked into your apartment so quickly that I'm pretty sure I heard whooshing noises the last time you saw me in the hallway says otherwise."

"Fine," he sighed, placing his detergent back in his now empty basket and shoving his fingers into the pockets of the loose gray sweatpants that were hanging low on his hips, showing the band of his black Calvin Klein boxers and a strip of his abdomen that was peeking out from below the hem of his faded Green Day t-shirt. "You're right. I have been avoiding you. I just thought things might be weird since we…"

"Since we had sex?" she cut in bluntly, one side of her mouth twisted into a small smirk.

"Yeah, that," he nodded, his tongue poking out to wet his dry lips.

Shrugging, she gathered her colors into her arms and turned to shove them into the only open washing machine, deciding she'd clean her whites when another one became available. "Like I said, not a big deal. We both agreed it was a onetime thing."

She was surprised at how convincing her words sounded considering the fact that she'd been fantasizing about Stiles's body for about three weeks.

"Oh," he said, eyebrows raised because apparently he hadn't expected it to be that easy. "So we're cool?"

"Yeah," she stretched her lips into what she hoped was an assuring smile. "We're all good."

Nodding once, he removed one hand from his pocket to grab his basket, turning towards the door when the sound of her speaking caused him to pause.

"You know, I'm actually a little surprised," she said, firmly pressing the cold wash option and crossing her arms over her chest when she turned to face him. "I kind of expected you to hold it over my head until the end of time."

His reaction was not at all what she was expecting. After living down the hall from him for all this time, she'd seen plenty of women enter and exit his apartment, usually not the same one more than twice. She didn't judge him for his sex life because she thought it was great that he was getting laid, but the dynamics of their relationship up until the night they'd spent together suggested that Stiles would have had no problem being smug at the fact that he'd left her shattered between his sheets. Surely that was the protocol for a relationship based on profanity and sarcasm and mutual dislike, so the fact that he looked saddened by the comment caught her off guard.

Sighing, he set down his basket again, both hands reaching up to tug the sides of his maroon knit beanie over his ears as he looked up at she from beneath long eyelashes, his tone quiet and emotionless. "Is that really the kind of person you think I am?"

If she was being honest with herself, she had no idea what kind of person he was. It wasn't as though in the midst of their fights and eye rolls she'd learned all of his deep dark secrets. Up until this point, the most she'd found out about him other than the fact that he enjoyed seeing her riled up, she'd learned the night she'd spent in his apartment. He had an ex-girlfriend that he missed a little and a mother that he loved enough to get her name tattooed on his arm.

"I don't know," she admitted, instantly feeling bad for having judged him at all.

"Look," he said, looking her directly in the eyes as he spoke. "I know we've had our differences in the past and I know you think that I hate you or whatever, but I would never brag about my sexual encounters."

"Good to know," she whispered, wondering what it meant that she was no longer just thinking about his fingers felt pressed into her skin, but how she liked the way his brown eyes lit to a deep amber when he was fired up about something. It was beautiful. Of course, she had always known Stiles was beautiful, but she was starting to think that he might be just as gorgeous on the inside and there was a part of her, a steadily growing part, that wanted to get to know him better.

He stared at her for a minute, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as he tilted his head to the side and drummed his fingers on the metal table top. It caused her heart rate to spike dramatically and she feared that she might say something that she would eventually end up regretting – like how she really wanted to kiss him again – so she lifted one hand in a wave, wiggling her fingers at him before grabbing her laundry basket and holding her breath as she turned towards the door.

"Lydia…"

She was stopped by the sound of her name. She liked the way it sounded dropping from his lips and how it made her feel warm and tingly all over, as though there were bubbles shooting through her bloodstream.

"What if I wanted it to be a big deal?"

She wasn't sure what that meant, but the pure sincerity and conviction in his tone made her forget how to breathe anyway and when she turned to face him, she prayed she didn't pass out from lack of oxygen to her brain.

"What?" she whispered, her fingers curling over the handle of her basket and drawing it firmly to her hip, pressing so hard she was certain she would have a bruise the next day.

His lips parted, his eyes wide as though he couldn't believe the words that had just escaped his mouth and he gaped at her for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts and come up with a clear sentence.

She could relate to his befuddlement because over the course of the past ten minutes, there were plenty of things she had wanted to say to him, but she couldn't. Or perhaps the problem wasn't so much that she was incapable of speaking her mind, but that she wouldn't do so. Despite everything that had happened between the two of them, she was stubborn and wanted to stand her ground, refusing to be the first to admit that somewhere along the way, she'd developed actual feelings for Stiles.

Pressing his shoulders backwards, he stood up a little straighter as he spoke, his confidence building with each word. "You keep saying that us sleeping together wasn't a big deal, that it didn't mean anything. But what if I wanted it to mean something? What if I wanted more?"

"More?" The fact that she was able to get the word out was a miracle in itself because her heart was pounding and her mind was racing and she was at a complete loss for words.

"Yeah." One side of his mouth lifted into a small smile as he stepped towards her. "Like, what if I wanted to take you on a date?"

"You want to date me?" she sputtered out; amazed at the turn their conversation had taken.

Stiles shrugged, his smile growing as he took another step closer, leaving only a few inches between their bare feet. If she made any sudden movements forward, her lips could be right on top of his. "Kinda."

Perhaps it was a combination of the unexpectedness of the declaration or the fact that he seemed to be reading her mind, but despite wanting to get to know Stiles better, she found the idea of actually going on dates with him terrifying. It was one thing to long for him from afar and entirely another to commit to something.

"Stiles," she shook her head, the pressure of her laundry basket against her hip beginning to hurt. "You're never here. How could we possibly date?"

It was a cop out, but it was also true. He spent months at a time away from home and for all she knew he'd have to fly off to another country in a matter of weeks. Long distance relationships were difficult enough when the couple had been together for an extended period of time. Diving into one with a man she hardly knew would just be ridiculous.

"Oh come on," he rolled his eyes, calling her bluff, because as she'd found out in the past few minutes, he could tell when she was spewing utter bullshit. "That's not the real reason you're saying no; you're scared."

"Scared?" she laughed, though it didn't come out sounding nearly as convincing as she would have liked. "Why would I be scared?"

Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, he raised one hand to brush back a strand of hair that had fallen out of her messy ponytail, his fingers lingering so he could cup her cheek. His touch caused her breathing to hitch and she stared at him wide eyed and frozen as he spoke. "Because, maybe, just maybe, you might end up liking me a whole lot more than you originally planned."

Her lips parted to protest before she realized he was right. She was terrified. She wasn't supposed to like Stiles at all; that had been the plan. So the fact that she'd spent every night since the one she'd spent in his bed wishing she could feel his body against hers was absolutely petrifying because it was causing her to come to terms with her feelings and the dawning realization that maybe she wanted more as well.

So she muttered, 'fuck it', under her breath and dropped her empty laundry basket to the floor before stepping forward and pressing her lips firmly to his. His arms encircled her waist, pulling her flush against the length of his torso so he could deepen the kiss, the corners of his lips turning upwards against her mouth as he turned her to press her back against the table, lifting slightly to set her atop it, her knees parting so he could lean into her further, his fingers pressing into her back deliciously, just how she remembered and imagined.

"I thought you were supposed to be taking me on a date, not trying to do me in the laundry room," she managed to gasp out between kisses, her fingers tangled into the thick curls at the nape of his neck, making it very clear that she didn't mind.

He pulled away at her comment, his lips kinked into a smirk, his eyes lighting mischievously as he took a step back, leaving her heated and flushed and utterly unsatisfied, which was quite a contrast to the first time they'd been together. Keeping his eyes glued to hers, he walked backwards to the door of the laundry room, pushing it closed and turning the metal lock, lifting his eyebrows cheekily as he made his way back to her. "Who says I can't do both?"

She didn't bother rolling her eyes because she was too busy pulling him close so she could kiss him again.


End file.
